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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25010101">my kingdom for a kiss upon his shoulder</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicsempertyrannis/pseuds/sicsempertyrannis'>sicsempertyrannis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Sails</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, THEY DESERVE IT, just a soft and quiet morning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:34:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>938</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25010101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicsempertyrannis/pseuds/sicsempertyrannis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A soft piece where James and Thomas get to break in a new day with homemade breakfast</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>my kingdom for a kiss upon his shoulder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sometimes you gotta listen to "lover, you should've come over" by Jeff Buckley while thinking about James and Thomas</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Breakfast hadn’t been a meal James had truly enjoyed for many years. More often than not he’d skip it on the ship, preferring instead to stand on the deck and breathe in the dawn. The rare mornings he had with Miranda were always tense, the ghost between them silencing what short-lived joy they had. During the war, it was easy to ignore the meal, and he had settled into the routine of trudging through the day on a near-empty stomach. When Thomas had found out after their reunion, it hadn’t been pretty.</p><p> </p><p>The sizzle of hot butter floated through their cottage, making James force himself up from his perch on his chair to meander to the kitchen. Neither of them quite knew how to work their stove, but Thomas was the most determined to figure it out. Many burnt meals have ensued from that, but James was glad to have a bucket of water available if it meant he could keep that grin on his lover’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Is there an occasion I should have remembered?” James asked, pausing just before the kitchen. Their cottage was small, and didn’t have an actual barrier between the kitchen and the rest of the house, but James could pretend.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we not indulge?”</p><p> </p><p>Thomas was bent over the stove, un-cracked eggs sitting in a bowl next to him. Dressed in a white shirt and black pants, the light streaming in from the window turned him golden. James sighed and crossed over to him, wrapping his arms around Thomas from behind.</p><p> </p><p>“James!” Thomas exclaimed, softly laughing. “I’m cooking.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can see that,” James murmured, tucking his head into the crook of Thomas’ neck.</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t see anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Despite his protests, Thomas let James stay wrapped around him. James savored Thomas’ warmth, a nice distraction from the coolness of the floor against his bare feet.</p><p> </p><p>Heat had always been James’ preferred temperature, too accustomed to suffering in the cold to be able to truly enjoy London’s climate. After he had met Thomas, the chill of his flat wasn’t something he had to worry about as much. Even before their kiss Thomas had invited him to use one of their guest rooms, protesting that it was much too late for James to return home. (Now, James was convinced it was part of his early efforts at flirting). It had been easy to slip into a routine during their relationship, where James stayed at the manor every night he could get away with.</p><p> </p><p>Breakfast in London and breakfast in their cottage were about as opposite as a meal could get. There was never any pressure for James to be somewhere else; that cloud of stress that used to hang over him turned into wide blue skies. The food was very different and, if he was being honest, much better; he had always been one for the simpler things in life.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m almost done,” Thomas said, interrupting his thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>James closed his eyes and hummed, burrowing deeper into Thomas’ shoulder and giving a muffled response.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Thomas asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I said that I’ll set the table,” James said, pulling away. He stepped back, then—with a moment’s consideration—leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his lover’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>At the contact, Thomas turned around and grabbed James’ jaw, pulling him into a real kiss. After a beat, he released James with a laugh and a light push.</p><p> </p><p>It was almost a dance, the way he and Thomas weaved around each other in the kitchen. The steps were worn deep into the floor, signs of the domesticity they shared as James grabbed the plates and Thomas grabbed the food, placing each on their small table.</p><p> </p><p>James had built it when they first found the abandoned cottage, using what little knowledge he had retained from his father. It was wobbly and in need of improvement, but neither man could bear to get a nicer one. It was the first item in ten years that had been truly theirs.</p><p> </p><p>“It looks perfect, Thomas,”</p><p> </p><p>And it did. The eggs were fried, the yolk golden and runny. Bread traded from a nearby farmer sat strewn by the peaches, fat and yellow. James scraped Thomas’ chair back, letting his lover sit down before he did. Sometimes it felt like those small acts of service were all he had to offer, a language of devotion built from their first meeting. He was always careful not to step too far, aware of Thomas’ need for agency after a decade without it.</p><p> </p><p>The silence when they ate stemmed not from a lack of conversation, but from a familiar companionship—an unspoken current forever between them. James knew this scene in his very soul, how lovely it was to be with the one you loved on a quiet morning. An ocean away from who they once were, James tried to not let the ghosts ache too much.</p><p> </p><p>James reached out to hold Thomas’ free hand, softly rubbing his palm between thumb and forefinger. Putting down his slice of toast, Thomas quirked an eyebrow at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Is there something you need to say?”</p><p> </p><p>James had never loved Nassau, not truly. He had loved the idea of it, what it could be. But all the power and money and influence had brought him no joy—only a mutilated back from all the knives he’s had to pull out of it. The kingdom that he had built, James would throw it all away a thousand times over for this simple feeling. If Thomas was the sun, then James was ready to burn.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. I’m just grateful to have you here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please leave comments and kudos i love every single thing you comment. like all of it. i crave validation</p><p>my tumblr is blacksailswlw !</p></blockquote></div></div>
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